The Magi
by mingingbent
Summary: Kris' Tale. What happened if Kris didn't die in Hardorn? Lira comes to the rescue, well sort of. AU Timeline after Arrow's Fall.
1. Chapter One

**Disclaimer:** Don't own it: remember if wishes were horses, beggars would ride. And I'd have a ton of money. Cheers and enjoy.

**A/N:** this is all well and good now, that I decided to reformat and edit. There are a few many good people who have reviewed saying that they don't understand quite what in hell is going on here in my little world. So, for your information here it is – The timeline: right after Arrows Fall, after Dirk and Talia got married, before any thing else. But in my little ditty Kris as in Herald Kris, Dirk's blood brother, herald to one Tantris "Featherfoot". In the books he died (Arrows Fall) in Hardorn at the hand of Ancar and Hulda glares evilly at witch. Well I have changed it just a tad; I have Kris living through that ordeal. Herald Lira Hedsfelt is in no way related to Selenay, though they do have a back story. Lira was a trainee at Herald's the same time Selenay was. She is in no way Elspeth's baby sister, one of the twins, though those two rascals are sure to make an appearance later in the show. Everything will be explained in the plot line. If you have any other questions, please drop me a line. Tragically yours, _MB_.

* * *

The Magi

By _mingingbent_

**This is a re-edit: Aug 14, 2005**

**

* * *

**  
Chapter One

_We can rest contentedly in our sins and in our stupidities, and anyone who has watched gluttons shoveling down the most exquisite foods as if they did not know what they were eating will admit that we can ignore even pleasure. But pain insists upon being attended to. God whispers to us in our pleasures, speaks in our consciences, but shouts in our pains. It is his megaphone to rouse a deaf world._  
**- C.S Lewis**

000

:_Oh hell:_, Lira's first thoughts breaking her veneer of calm as she snaked her way into the city, clinging to her Companion's back.

Kadir remained silent buried in deep thought for a long while before answering.

:_My thoughts exactly ashara.:_

The Collegium at Havens spiraled into view and Lira smiled slightly, the first time she had since getting the mind call from Kyril a half-moon ago. At least some things never changed.

Lira wasted no time jumping off her Companions back as soon as they got to the field and ran swiftly down the halls to where Kyril had said he and the queen would be waiting.

Nodding to the servant at the door she regained a more placid composure and entered the small conference room.

_She looks older, well so does he._ Lira thought taking in the two occupants of the room. _There's more grey in his hair and more lines in her face. _

The Queen of Valdemar, in just plain tunic and breeches, her long blond hair in a braid, broke into a wide smile before getting gracefully to her feet and enveloping Lira in a hug.

After her release Kyril offered up the chair next to him with a smile that didn't reach his eyes (quite).

"So," Lira breathed a heavy sigh, "How bad is he?"

Lira reached over to still Selenay hands; she had been ringing them for the past hour.

"Talia's not even sure if what she's doing actually helps. And we've had to keep him under watch. Not that we're afraid he'll do something stupid. But just incase. Neither Talia or Dirk have been able to connect or concentrate properly since, it's wearing us all thin."

Lira looked to Kyril for confirmation. The Herald who always reminded her of a living, moving stone locked his tired eyes with hers' in affirmation.

:_Ashara, I talked to his Companion. He's blocked him out, well not entirely, but every time he tries to talk to him his Chosen goes cold.:_

_:Laa: _That was practically unheard of, Herald blocked their Companions out from time to time but nothing like this, not total alienation.

_:Na'am:_ Kadir seemed sad.

_:Shit:_ Lira couldn't contain her worries any longer.

_:Precisely: _

"Talia is the best empath we've got and he's closed off with her as well. He still refuses to show any acknowledgment to his Companion or any of us. He's been a walking corpse since the border."

"So," Lira filed all the information Selenay, Kyril and Kadir had been telling her, "You called me up from Paradise to sort this mess out."

Selenay gave her best impression of a cheeky smile and Kyril nodded passively.

And in the back of her mind Lira twitched, _Help!_

_

* * *

_  
Lira adjusted herself in the overstuffed lime green aberration, that passed for a chair, she was occupying at the moment, which faintly smelled of grape wine and feet. Because it had been overstuffed, bulges dug into Lira's back and made it very uncomfortable to sit in. Twisting her limbs and back again she tried to snuggle into a more comfortable spot. Across from her sat Kyril, his graying face resembling windswept stone, not bearing any thoughts of what his inner monologue was. Selenay next to him, the farthest from the door in the room, fidgeted very un-queen like; it reminded Lira of the fairy child Selenay of her youth when they were both Trainees. The faint knock on the door broke the uneasy silence.

"Come in." Selenay's voice sounded strained and hoarse as if she had lost it and recently regained it again.

A herald dressed in whites silently shifted across the threshold. Lira held her breath, if it wasn't for the black hair and deep blue eyes she would have mistaken him for a ghost; the pale complexion of his skin blending in with the cloth of his whites. He didn't say a word, just came through, stepping only a few paces in and stopped. His blue eyes were so lifeless with his blanched features. His arms threaded behind his back and his head tilted upward, eyes fixed on some point on the wall. Lira would have called him beautiful except for the lucid nature of the soul that radiated off him in waves, rotting out his aura. It almost caused her heart to break. As she studied him, she delved. And at the heart of him she found a large, gaping black hole that seemed to grow larger and fester more by the minute. At his center the black hole seemed to swallow up every emotion. She excepted hurt, regret, pain even sorrow but the void she now faced was slightly more than frightening.

Selenay mind-spoke her, and she faintly heard Kyril explaining something to the young herald.

_:See what I mean:_

Throughout the session Lira had her mind-link open with Kadir, who pondered on the situation before parting with his wisdom.

_:That's verging on not human ashara. May the gods help us; help this boy find himself again.:_


	2. Chapter Two

**Disclaimer:** Don't own it: remember if wishes were horses, beggars would ride. And I'd have a ton of money. Cheers and enjoy.

**A/N:** this is all well and good now, that I decided to reformat and edit. There are a few many good people who have reviewed saying that they don't understand quite what in hell is going on here in my little world. So, for your information here it is – The timeline: right after Arrows Fall, after Dirk and Talia got married, before any thing else. But in my little ditty Kris as in Herald Kris, Dirk's blood brother, herald to one Tantris "Featherfoot". In the books he died (Arrows Fall) in Hardorn at the hand of Ancar and Hulda glares evilly at witch. Well I have changed it just a tad; I have Kris living through that ordeal. Herald Lira Hedsfelt is in no way related to Selenay, though they do have a back story. Lira was a trainee at Herald's the same time Selenay was. She is in no way Elspeth's baby sister, one of the twins, though those two rascals are sure to make an appearance later in the show. Everything will be explained in the plot line. If you have any other questions, please drop me a line. Tragically yours, _MB_.

* * *

The Magi

By _mingingbent_

**This is a re-edit: Aug 14, 2005**

**

* * *

**  
Chapter Two

"If we don't change, we don't grow.

If we don't grow, we aren't really living."

- **Gail Sheehy**

000

"So?" the young, newly wed Queen's Own pursed her lips into an estranged line when she spoke.

Another meeting: this time with Herald's Talia (The Queen's Own), Dirk, Alberich, as well as Selenay and Kyril.

"Can you help him?"

Talia was skeptical and showed no signs of hiding those feelings.

"Yes, can you?" The very lyrical, pleasing voice of her husband Dirk questioned as well.

"Help him." Lira worried her bottom lip as she always did when she was thinking hard, "Not likely…"

"What--" Talia broke in, very affronted, before Lira could finish.

Alberich cast a weary eye, telling her to tread carefully. She was walking on broken shards of glass now.

"Only he can help himself, though I may be able to facilitate that."

The Queen's Own calmed a bit and Dirk wrapped a comforting arm around her waist.

"If it's okay with you Selenay, I think or more we – Kadir and I – think we have the perfect plan."

* * *

Lira never liked the idea of goodbyes. She always thought they were useless waste of words and emotions, because in the end, it was never really goodbye. Only 'see you later'. But it was a formality she had to live with. She had already shook hands with Kyril and hugged Selenay, promising to take care of the Herald. But a mass amount of Heralds and others from the Collegiums were saying goodbye to her charge, as if they were paying their last respects. It irked Lira, sickened her some. She really wanted to be on the road before noon, or the sun would beat down hot on their skin before they reached the first crossing place. So Lira waited, idly playing with Kadir's mane. She watched on as the seemingly waking dead Herald passed from friend to friend as they offered words of support or gifts for the journey. At least he came to Talia and Dirk. Talia kissed him on the cheek and Dirk clasped him in a tight brotherly hug as Talia beside them choked on her tears. 

_At least he's quiet._ Lira grumbled to herself.

Kadir didn't say anything but she caught the feeling that he didn't like her train of thought.

The sun itched along the back of her neck and Lira fought the urge to scratch it and lost.

_:Sticky business he's got into though.:_ Lira tried to make conversation hoping Kadir would shed some light on his own thought process.

:_Well I doubt you'd do any better if the same thing happened to you: _ He barked.

:_Ha…but I would. I don't have any uncles.: _

Kadir blocked her out after that.

* * *

The first night in the way station Lira could feel him next to her, breathing irregularly, the only sign he was awake. She didn't try conversation, she knew he wouldn't answer. But it felt a tad uneasy resting next to such a shell of a man. 

The second night wasn't any better, but Lira did force food on him. Which he ate: mechanical movements guiding him through stiff motions.

In the middle of the third day on the road, Lira whistling along to a bird song after making peace with Kadir, let down her shields. A wave of gloom and sluggishness enveloped her. After getting her bearings, Lira called out to her silent companion.

"Kris….Kris. Why won't you answer me?"

His features remained placid, unchanging, unmoving.

_:What do I do:_

_:You'll figure it out as soon as you get to Ahkdar Noor. You'll figure out something, you always do.:_ Kadir offered reassuringly.

Lira gave up trying to talk to him directly and just made general announcements hoping for some kind of acknowledgement – but none came.

_:Ooo…boy this is going to be a long ride.:_


	3. Chapter Three

**Disclaimer:** Don't own it: remember if wishes were horses, beggars would ride. And I'd have a ton of money. Cheers and enjoy.

**A/N:** this is all well and good now, that I decided to reformat and edit. There are a few many good people who have reviewed saying that they don't understand quite what in hell is going on here in my little world. So, for your information here it is – The timeline: right after Arrows Fall, after Dirk and Talia got married, before any thing else. But in my little ditty Kris as in Herald Kris, Dirk's blood brother, herald to one Tantris "Featherfoot". In the books he died (Arrows Fall) in Hardorn at the hand of Ancar and Hulda glares evilly at witch. Well I have changed it just a tad; I have Kris living through that ordeal. Herald Lira Hedsfelt is in no way related to Selenay, though they do have a back story. Lira was a trainee at Herald's the same time Selenay was. She is in no way Elspeth's baby sister, one of the twins, though those two rascals are sure to make an appearance later in the show. Everything will be explained in the plot line. If you have any other questions, please drop me a line. Tragically yours, _MB_.

* * *

The Magi

By _mingingbent_

**This is a re-edit: Aug 14, 2005**

**

* * *

**

**A/N:** In this chapter I use more of the native language that the desert people speak – Lango (I made it up all by myself; it's loosely based on Tolkien's Elvish languages and Arabic). Lira speaks it fluently, Kris knows none of it. There will be no translation in this chapter because of it. Sorry if that bothers you or irks you, if you really want to know what they're saying email me and I will gladly interpret. The reason I am not giving an interpretation in the fic is because I want it to be realistic. In reality Kris had no idea what they are really saying. Thus making the whole cliffhanger thing work a bit better, in my humble opinion. Cheers and enjoy. MB.

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Chapter Three

"My home is not a place, it is people."

**- ****Lois McMaster Bujold**, _"Barrayar", 1991_

000

Almost a half-moon later Ahkdar Noor rose out of the desert plains, an oasis of white splashed with natures' green and blue. Red and gold flags flapped in the breeze that always blew stronger in the late summer, early fall.

Lira smiled at the sight, so happy to finally be off the road.

_It's good to be home. _

She turned to where Herald Kris road stoically at her side.

"This," she gestured, "Is Ahkdar Noor, my home and high seat of Ibn Baren."

He didn't answer but that was to be expected.

Winding their way through the city, many waved, mostly people Lira knew by first name. Children stopped their games to follow the Companions.

Ahkdar Noor was more of a camp than a city. At its center was the bazaar and although some of the buildings were built of mud and stone, many and most were pavilions, large and small, and tents gleaming in the mid afternoon sun.

Kadir slowed as they reached a large tent, the flaps opened to the sides, revealing a very sparse, clean living space. Lira dismounted, gestured for Kris to do the same, and was immediately manhandled into a bear hug by a large, dark-skinned, bald, bare breasted man.

"Sadig keif halac?" His deep voice resounded in her ears.

"Ana madsoot." She replied a grin breaking her features.

"Eh dah?" He asked when they separated.

"Eh dad, eh ismee Kris, eh dah Tollun."

The herald remained passive by her side.

"Kris, this is Jadhir (Jaheer) he's a good friend of mine, but he like most everyone else in Ahkdar speaks Lango, the language of the tribes."

Kris didn't move at all, not even to show he heard her, so she turned to Jadhir.

"Kris, eh lass afham nah Lihat. Sa enbaer."

_Well that went smooth._

Kadir broken in her thoughts _:I'm going to take Tantris and wander over to Aban's:_

_:Don't do anything I wouldn't do.:_

"Masa'a hani." Jadhir looked uncomfortable with the break of silence.

"Masa'a."

She had to take Kris to the Abnen before the sun started to set.

* * *

Fitting back into her particular niche was easy. People smiled as she passed through the series of walkways that led her to the Abnen, or Ahkdar Noor's ruling court, in particular it's High King, Faen Ibn Imad. Even the page smiled at her as she asked for entrance. 

Red and gold banner's hung above the Tahlmud, the high seat of Abnen, fluttering, and casting an orange glow on the whole room, which was in fact a large pavilion. The high seat wasn't more than a dais with many pillows, on which sat a crisply dressed elderly man, which graying sideburns and tanned skin. His slightly slanted eyes were sleet grey, and they peered knowingly down from his perch. There were a few others in the room, a younger man with a scribe's unit, and a small boy: the man's own personal page.

When Lira entered, King Faen flashed a generous smile to her. Slightly bowing her head, Lira introduced Kris.

"Eh dah, Tollun Kris. Eh dad sadik waa taa'la hena na Ishaalha saedo waa saadni saedo waa saedhome exlab abyad fahamt. Howa rayed hema en fiel beit ana. Alhandullellah."

The king seemed to contemplate for awhile but then smiled as he spoke.

"Naani. Na am fahamt."

"Shokran gazillan."

"Ahlan wa sahlan. Maa'asa Alkair."

* * *

The nutty, spicy aroma of Talseem (a type of oatmeal) wafted through the city of tents from the bazaar. Lira beckoned Kris to follow her. Finally in the sea of white tents erupted a teal blue edged pavilion, the sun scintillatingly bright shinning white panels edged with teal. It was larger than the surrounding shelters and Lira continued inside. Once inside Lira lowered her pack, Kris did the same before she turned to him. 

"This is my home, make yourself at home. I'll have Mathir bring in another bed for you. Welcome to Ahkdar Noor - my friend welcome."

Kris felt another wave of grief, mostly for himself, wash over him when the other Herald, Lira, left. Back in Haven it was easier to ignore everyone and everything there; they were so busy trying to fight a war that they were content to give him peace and space. But since being out on the road it was increasingly difficult, but after the first three days she pretty much left him alone. He was bitterly thankful for that. Now he was gods know where in a place that didn't speak his language, with no one he knew. The gaping hole in his soul still festered; at first it had been painful, now it was just part of everyday life: the heavy ache. Tantris didn't understand his plight either, no one did. He'd failed, failed as a Herald, failed as a friend, failed as a brother. Failed in the one thing in life he was supposed to do right. He didn't really care about anyone or anything anymore. The only reason he was alive was because of Tantris, he didn't feel his companion should be deserted like he had deserted everyone, everything else. But the mask of indifference was easy and he had blocked Tantris out a long time ago. Companions didn't intrude or attempt to help you out unless you asked. Slouching down on some of the cushions in the corner of the tent Kris felt another bout of helplessness wash over him. The herald had said to make himself at home, well that was something he could at least try to do.


	4. Chapter Four

**Disclaimer:** Don't own it: remember if wishes were horses, beggars would ride. And I'd have a ton of money. Cheers and enjoy.

**A/N:** I re-edited the previous chapters. I hope the author's notes on those have cleared up any questions about Kris, Lira, Selenay and the time line which is right after Arrow's Fall. I am sorry it took so long for me to upload; I have a bit of writer's block on this. But here it is.

Thank you **Master Solo**, **lorelei**, **Vi**, and **Djiril **for the reviews.

Merry Hols, **MB**

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The Magi

By _mingingbent_

**30 Dec 2005**

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Chapter Four

Today I stumbled from my bed  
With thunder crashing in my head  
My pillow still wet  
From last night tears  
And as I think of giving up  
A voice inside my coffee-cup  
Kept crying  
And ringing in my ears

- _Don't Cry Daddy_, Elvis Presley

* * *

Kris awoke with a start out of confusing, twisted, dark dreams. Two stygian, almond shaped eyes came into his focus. The rest of the figure followed: a small young woman with dusky suntanned skin and long chocolate curls flowed down her back. She was attired in loose fitting pants and a tunic with long sleeves (reminiscent of what most of the residents of the city wore) that undulated around her toned body. Both where white but around her waist, just under the hem of the tunic was a teal blue sash, the same color as the tent lining. He straightened himself on the cushions.

In a thick, broken accent (that reminded him painfully- a jagged sharp twist- of Alberich) she spoke in a deep, lyrical voice, "Amina I am. The Lady's Mana…erm not sure proper word…helper…think I – just learn Valdemar tongue. I to help you."

Kris piece by piece brought the mask of impassiveness back over his features.

"Long ride have you; up with you. Baka'en I think for you. Follow me."

Kris pulled himself to his feet. He followed the lithe figure through the back of the tent, waiting to find out what the Baka'en was.

The water sloshed around his body as he settled into the blazing hot water, that stung and pricked at every piece of him. He faintly heard Amina talking with someone else in that strange lilting language he knew nothing of. Well he could always fall asleep here.

But she was back before he could fully submerge himself in sleep. She stared at him for a minute before dropping the towels in her arms on the small bench beside the large tub.

"These for you, if need me you…call."

But then she shuffled off.

Completely put out that his naptime was interrupted Kris wallowed for a minute before cautiously getting out of the tub and wrapping himself with the soft towels. He rubbed the cloth curiously; the weave was much finer and softer than anything in Haven.

All in all, this place where he had ended up was rather - different.

Curious, he wandered back into the main room of the large tent. In a previously bare corner sheer curtains surrounded a bed, and on the large pillow like chair, clothes were laid out – the same loose fitting pants and tunic Amina donned. Except there was no sash and the ones for him were a blazing white. Slipping into them, he padded over to where someone had placed his belongings.

* * *

He was there again. The darkness pressed heavily on his limbs and choked his throat. Thus began the nightmare that was his life. The darkness that clamped down of every particle of his body became a succubus and tore and ripped him apart. Every time he closed his eyes the same vision washed over him. It was those last moments in Hardorn and everything that went wrong. He could hear the screams echo in his mind, Talia reaching out blindly for him, watching as they ripped her from his grasp. How he had watched as they tortured her, unable to much more than plead with unanswered cries. Death washed over him, it clung like a dirty oil cloth, threatening that every breath that he managed to squeeze out of his bruised, bloody lungs might well be his last. Then he had prayed with dying, silver tears for an end – a release. His throat that had seemed before to dry and hoarse to even gargle screamed with a litany of begging words – like _please_, and _oh gods_, _just let me die_, _kill me_ – most of them running together and at such a height that that seemed just croaks and groan and moans, pains of the heart. Then in a flash of something akin to lightening barraged his senses, a voice was calling out then: _Kris, Kris, Kris…_ A soft, beautiful voice not full of malice, or pity or hate but of love, compassion and light; with that last thought he drifted back into the darkness.

* * *

Lira braced herself against her wardrobe. He was screaming again: sharp sounds of agony that tore at the shimmering silence like a knife to fine cloth or more aptly a fine sword point etching initials in warm flesh. Her first urge was to run and comfort his as she would a child, but he was no child, the second was to douse him with the cold water she kept at her beside for prayer and reflection, to save him any more torments. She could always fetch another. But she did neither knowing that he had to face these demons on his own, she couldn't help by doing either of the things she wanted to. Knowing from experience, the demons in sleep-dreams as well as in the corporal world had to be face alone especially the ones of nightmares, that was the only way to conquer them and the fear. Lira shivered as she heard another choked sob and then a whimper from his corner of the Pilan (pavilion, tent).

Something must have calmed him or the visions must have fled because in the next moment, it was back to a peaceful silence.

Lira soaking up all the left over tension in the air quietly padded back into bed.

* * *

Kris woke from seemingly dreamless sleep feeling more rested than he had ever had. Which he reasoned probably had as much to do with the bed as anything else. It wasn't really a bed – bed like he was used to. (Everything in this place seem bizarre and different) It didn't have a traditional frame that held the mattress and it was like a thin bedroll either. It was a large mat, like a pillow that sat on thin, wood boards; it was very comfortable and soft to the touch. On it had been place two large, circular pillows as well as smaller rectangular ones. This bed didn't have sheets but a large, soft blanket. And hung all around was this fine muslin material, like the gauze you wrapped wounds in, veneer curtains soft as silk to the touch. Kris turned abruptly hearing a knock on the entrance to his room in the large tent.

The Herald was leaning comfortably against one of the inner pillars, her face unreadable, but looking friendly enough. Kris crossed his arms in defiance, a week ago he would have let her intrusion brush off, but he was a fish out of water, a bird out of his tree here in this foreign desert, and that had thrown him for a loop. The indifference was harder to keep up here, than in Haven.

"Amina told me that she met you. If you are up to a stroll, I'll show you around. Plus we have to get you to Talseig to have you fitted."

_Fitted for what?_, Kris could hardly guess at that.

Lira content that Kris was following her, threaded her way through the mass of inhabitants going about their daily work; hanging clothes on the line, mending gear for the horses, pushing their young children off to play. Hopefully if she opened herself to him, showed him up to The Rock of Bhat, he would not shy from her anymore, and begin the process of living again. She knew that a wound would not heal until it was drained of all its poison.

Kris tried to stay on her heels, but she moved fast and expertly through the moving throng of the morning hours. But she was enough of a contrast to these outlanders with there dark skin and features, that he had no trouble finding her again. If she was a contrast to this people, with her sun-streaked chestnut hair passed her shoulders, and freckled but tanned skin, he was an aberration his skin the color of milk, hair as dark as ink. Everything seemed brighter here; the fulgent sun illuminated everything in its sphere with a golden hue. Not to mention the climate change. Haven had been in the first tiny tendrils of spring, cold, brisk, overcast, not the ever-present oncoming heat that pressured on his body now. The herald led him away from the congregation of tents, pavilions and small thatched buildings, into the clay hills that lined this side of Ahkdar Noor. As they reached the top of the embankment, she quickly scampered down, following the valley between the embankment and the start of the much higher hills. Kris silently followed.

Reaching the end of the trench, Lira pulled herself into the hills, on the top of another she continued out on to a large flat shelf of earth. Kris emerged after her, and made a motion to sit with her on the edge.

The vision was nothing short of spectacular. The stark beauty of nature displayed all around. From the red earth clay of the hill, stretched a dry desert till the horizon, but at the edge, standing proud, craggily with age were gigantic desert trees, wide at the base, with graying trunks, their fronds spread at its top like points of a star. There was the glimpse of sparkling blue there, a well or oasis. Nothing but desert between the outpost tower of Ahkdar Noor, and the sun fell ethereal on the cliffs and the desert like a pressuring good hearted mother.

Kris took a seat next to Lira, and for the first time since the tent, spoke.

"This is what the tribes call The Rock of Bhat," she gestured all around them, "The tribes have a legend that goes back dynasties about a peasant boy and a talking horse." Her eyes danced mischievously at him and there she begun to weave the tale.

"Bhat was a simple boy, son of a goat-herder and a local weave-woman, his great accomplishments were being able to spell his name in the dirt, and run to the top of citadel with his pails of water, without spilling so much as a drop; for he was a water boy, for one a _Lusdaan_ or tribal prince, a man who liked his horses watered promptly and fully. Since Bhat got paid by the bucket he was very careful with his cargo. Bhat knew nothing of the outside world, only that of Ahkdar Noor, which was Behausi-run at that time and called _Fot Pael_, which in their dialect means King's Chair. He knew nothing of other lands, or other people. He believed in the God of the Sun and Moon, Amphet, and the Goddess of Earth, Taer, and everything else that spilled from High Priest's lips. Magic which was somewhat of a local lore, was discouraged and taught, believed my most to be that of stories and folksongs sung by the ancients. One day, while back was making his run for the _Lusda_anhe noticed that there was one more horse than usual at the trough. At first Bhat reckoned that the prince had acquired a new horse, as Bhat knew the man was searching for a suitable mount for his daughter, but then as he turned to empty his pails, the horse swiveled its great head. Bhat was mesmerized by the great, white horse. Never before had he seen such a beauty. After the momentary shock wore off, he carefully set down his pale, and approached the animal. Knowing that horses in unfamiliar territory often spooked, Bhat was quiet in his advances and made shushing noises to it. But he should have had no fear, for the horse was quite at ease and nibble at the end of Bhat's outstretched hands. That was when Bhat noticed that the horse had the most brilliant, blue eyes, so deep you could drown in them. That was when the world changed, for the beast spoke, in a lilting, sing-song female voice.

_I am Efer, Bhat, and I am your destiny. _

Startled by the voice, Bhat spun to see who had come up behind him. But he was alone, no one was in the vicinity, thus he turned back to the horse. Looking deep within those eyes again, he knew he wasn't hearing voices, that this horse, this spirit had spoken to him, and that he would never be alone again. Looping the bridle in his hand, he filled the water basin, and then carried off to finish other chores; the large, white mare following him all the way.

But Bhat was a naïve boy, thinking that this gift of the white spirit-horse was the most wonderful thing in the world, so he told his friend Mani, as soon as they met in the street. He hadn't expected what happened next. _Fot Pael_ was reasonably small, and the gossip of Bhat and his talking horse spread like desert winds on the plateau. Bhat should have known that this would be an unwanted obstacle, especially for the High Priest.

Before the day had finished the guard had been called, separating Bhat from his precious Efer and bringing them to face the high council, which was located her on this part of the hills. There Bhat was made to recount the whole morning; over and over he cried, tears biting at his cheeks, and pooling on the ground. _She's mine. She talked to me. Let her go! She's my friend._ But the council, with the High Priest had already come to his conclusions about the white horse and the boy. Surely it must be demons work, this enchantment of the boy. And thus it was decreed that the offending animal be done away with, that the spirit within be dispelled. Bhat's father not standing a coin flip away from his grieving son, reached out to bring him to his feet.

"You cannot save her now, but you can ease the pain." He said before pushing a dark, curved blade into the boy's hands.

Bhat, trying to blink the tears from his eyes looked onto Efer, who had been pushed to the ground by the tribesmen. She raised her now bloodied head, and fixed a soft blue eye of Bhat. In that instant he new all was forgiven. With slow movements he approached her, and struck true, embedding the blade deep with her chest. Her eyes fluttered and then closed for one last time, before the great white horse shuddered and died.

Bhat was inconsolable, he cried out to the Gods, asking them, why, why and was only met with a soft lilting, female voice – _Bhat I am your destiny_.

They say the great animal, who was left dead in this very place, bled for weeks, rivers of crimson washed over these hills and into _Fot Pael_ below. Though being the rainy season, the rain did not come no matter how hard the people prayed and soon they were flung into a drought. The season of bad luck reigned supreme, and the villagers begun to believe that the murder of the horse, was the reason. They pleaded for Bhat, to go back to the flat. So he did. Alone, the now jaded boy reached the carcass of his one dear Efer. The pain at not having her in his heart, and almost driven him to suicide, the breach was that deep. Reaching her, he went to touch the cold flesh of her once regal nose. But before him the vision shifted, and no more was the bloodied, white Efer, but a fair, young woman, her eyes closed and skin white as death. When he touched her, he could hear the ringing in his ears, _Bhat I am your destiny, Bhat I am your destiny…_

Picking up the traitorous he knew what had to be done. Plunging it into his own heart, he knew no regrets; he would join his Efer soon. And so the story goes, that with his sacrifice, the drought ended but not before it took the High Priest and some of the _Lusdaan_ with it into death."

Lira had finished with the tale, and turned to look at Kris, "They say in these parts that if you go to The Rock of Bhat you will find all your questions answered, andknowledge that you are never alone."

When Kris failed to reply, Lira pushed father, "Listen I know you've blocked your companion out, and gods know they can be pushy and irritating, but…"

Kris looked confused at her, at first, and then his mouth bent into a scowl, and he looked away.

"It's none of my business, is that what you're thinking? Well it is, because I promised Selenay I'd get you back in one piece. If you are going to digger yourself a deeper whole in denial, then fine. Just don't get yourself killed in the process."

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